


Before and After

by just_another_classic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_classic/pseuds/just_another_classic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian has always catalogued his life into a series of “befores" and "afters," and he's been very good at navigating them both. It's just this "after" that he's having trouble with staying afloat. Can Henry help set him on course? Post Underworld, Captain Cobra</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before and After

Killian awakens with a gasp, his skin slicked with sweat. For a moment, he does not know where he is, his memory replaying the events of his nightmare. The Underworld. Torture. Losing everything and everyone he loves.

 

Only he didn’t, did he?

 

Trying to stabilize his erratic heartbeat, he rolls to his side for proof of that fact. Emma is still asleep – praise the gods he did not wake her with his thrashing – snoring lightly. Strands of her golden hair are fanned over her back and pillow, and he longs to reach out and twist a curl around his fingers. His desire to not disturb her slumber, however, outweighs his current longing for comfort. She has already done (and continues to do) so much for him already. He cannot deny her much needed rest, no matter how much he wishes to seek respite in her arms.

 

Killian is no stranger to nightmares. They have plagued him for centuries. Normally, on mornings like these, the ones after he pulls himself from his hellish dreamscape, he would ensconce himself in the smell of the sea and taste of salt in the air. It is, and forever will be, the best way to calm himself after a particularly stormy night. Even when his ship was gone, he still found himself walking toward the docks after particularly terrible dreams.

 

(Those ones involved losing Emma. The ones that almost became a reality.)  
  
Still, this morning he hesitates, not eager to leave the sleeping woman by his side. Killian knows he could easily leave a note, scroll down a few lines about his devotion and how he will see her in a few short hours. He had done that before…

 

…but that was just that. _Before_.

 

Killian has always catalogued his life into a series of “befores.” Before his father abandoned him. Before Liam died. Before he watched Milah’s heart be crushed before his eyes. Before he met Emma. Before she grabbed the dagger. Before he became the Dark One.

 

Before he died.

 

He’s generally been good navigating the “afters,” as well, no matter how painful they may have been. He carried his course through time and time again.

 

He’s a hell of a Captain, after all.

 

After their father left, Killian’s goal was to simply stay alive for Liam, and for the two of them to bring something to the cursed Jones name. After Liam died, he just wanted to burn the whole world down. After he lost Milah, he devoted his life to killing the Crocodile. (A task which he still has and will never complete.) After he met Emma, all he wanted to do was be a man that was worthy of her love and affection.

 

After he became the Dark One, after he died, after he was resurrected for the third time, Killian…well…he just doesn’t know how to navigate this after.

 

He’s trying. Gods, how is he trying.

 

It’s just that they’re still on tenuous ground, he and Emma. In the week since they’ve returned from the Underworld, they have made little headway in resolving the issues between them brought to light during their respective bouts of darkness. They’ve talked some, but the words they shared were more or less broken apologies and sobbed “I love yous.” It has been nice to say sorry and to reaffirm their love, but it’s not what they need. Not really.

 

Not that Killian knows exactly what they need.

 

It was so easy _before_. He misses the ease in which they could talk to one another, how he was so capable of calming her. He misses how quickly he could make or laugh or smile with no pain masked beneath. He misses how he could look her in the eye and not feel shame.

 

He’s been told that the shame will fade with time, but time, as of late, seems to not be on his side. He’s prided himself in the past on being a patient man, but now all he wants is to jump forward in time to that special day when he can feel worthy of her love and devotion and he can forgive himself for everything he said and did to her.

 

(Not bloody likely, he thinks, but he won’t tell her that.)

 

Gods, he wishes they could go back to the way they were before.

 

His thoughts are making him restless, and Killian knows the longer he stays in bed, the likelihood of waking Emma will only increase. Gingerly, he extricates himself from her side, eyes never retreating from her sleeping form. He hastily pulls on the shirt and pants that were quickly divested the night before as he and Emma attempted to seek comfort each other’s arms. He briefly considers his brace, but decides it isn’t worth the effort at this hour. It’s a weekend, and Emma has the day off. He doubts there will be any plans to leave the refuge of their home that day.

 

Aimlessly, Killian wanders downstairs. The house is cool. It doesn’t bother him too much, the years spent on a ship in winter acclimating him to cold climates. Emma is starting to complain, but she refuses to turn on the heat before a specific date for a reason unknown to him. In the moments that she voices her discomfort, he considers telling her that he finds it silly to wait for a certain day, but he always decides against it. Voicing a contrary opinion could lead to disagreement. They have enough battles to already parse through to add something as minor as ‘when to turn on the heat’ to the list.

 

(He still isn’t sure what exactly it means, but he knows it has something to do with the realm not needing fires to keep the indoors warm. For a land with magic, it certainly seems to exist from his point of view.)

 

Not sure what to do, he moves to the kitchen for water. He makes sure to use the water from the so-called Brita filter of which Emma is so fond. He doesn’t necessarily understand its purpose, but he goes along with it. This realm’s predilections for water still surprise him in so many ways. Its free-flowing nature is still so astounding, as well as the degree to which it is wasted. Still, he doesn’t mind too much. Hot showers continue to be one of his favorite discoveries. _Before_ Emma would even sometimes join him, mostly for reasons that had nothing to do with cleanliness. Killian wonders when that pastime will happen again.

 

He considers eating, but since his return from the Underworld, he has had little appetite. Besides, Killian isn’t sure what food there is left exactly in the kitchen. Emma’s parents had visited a few days ago with bags full of groceries, but Killian has felt no drive since that day to investigate outside cans of soup or sleeves of crackers. Honestly, he hasn’t felt much motivation for anything since coming back, with the exception of attempting to repair things with Emma and at times, her family. He goes through the motions most days. That state of being seems to be a constant in this period of _after._ Maybe that’s another thing that will change with time. He could maybe go back to the way _he_ was _before._

Still, that lack of motivation is what leaves Killian standing alone in a cool kitchen with nothing but a glass of water.

 

He considers reading. He likes reading. It is a habit he picked up during his years at sea, and one that continues on to this day. There are so many books in this realm, many more than that existed in the Enchanted Forest. The ubiquitous nature of the tomes once provided comfort among all of the other technological advancements of this realm, because books were –  _are_  – something he can easily understand. At one point, before everything went to hell, he had a sort of running book exchange with Belle. She would recommend a book, which he would then read, and once he finished they would discuss its contents. It was a neat little arrangement they had. Killian wonders if Belle would still be open to that again. Maybe…but maybe not. He did try to murder her husband. Again. Not that he doesn’t still believe that the Crocodile deserves a painful death, but he knows Belle most certainly disagrees.

 

Killian did so enjoy their friendship. Pity it is probably gone.

 

He is startled from his reverie by the sound of feet thumping down the stairs, and for a moment he fears he has woken Emma. Instead of Swan, however, it is Henry that turns the corner into the kitchen. The boy is still dressed in his pajamas, red flannel pants and a matching shirt, but he wears a look of quiet determination that seems ill-fitting this early in the morning. It shocks Killian to see Henry at this hour. The lad normally sleeps late into the morning on weekends, and today the sun is barely yet risen. But Killian’s knowledge of the boy’s sleeping habits primarily derive from Emma’s teasing  _before_ , and this this  _after,_ and maybe him and Emma weren’t the only ones shattered by the past few weeks. He feels bile rising in his throat, because the boy is one of the last people who deserve this kind of torment, and strictly speaking, much of the torment is totally Killian’s fault.

 

(He still cannot wrap his mind around the fact that Emma’s entire family stormed into indescribable hell to bring him back.)

 

He watches as Henry ambles over to the coffee machine – Keurig, the prince had called it when he and Emma’s mother visited under the guise of delivering housewarming gifts. He considers warning the lad off of it as Emma would do – she does not want her son to pick up that addicting habit – but he lets it go. If he is the partial reason why Henry is awake, then Killian knows he cannot deny the boy something as simple as a cup of coffee.

 

“Nice choice of mug,” Killian says lamely, gesturing toward Henry’s Darth Vader mug in an attempt to start a conversation, apologize, something that isn’t watching the lad putter around the kitchen.. “I apologize if I am the reason for you needed it. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

Henry shrugs and waves him off in way that is such Emma that it hurts. “You didn’t,” Henry says so matter-of-factly. “I set my alarm.”

 

“Why?” Killian tightens his grip on his own glass of water, eyes the boy carefully. He has this sinking feeling that whatever prompted Henry to actively choose to wake up this early has something to do with him.

 

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

 

Killian did not want to be right.

 

“Well then, lad, let’s talk.”

 

Killian gestures toward the dining room table, and the two pad their way over to sit down. As he takes his seat, Emma’s son schools his face into an expression of such intensity that it staggers him, and for a moment Killian sees both the boy’s father and grandmother staring back at him. Whatever the boy has to say, Killian knows he will never have the ability to deny this boy anything. Not with the people his face reflects. They sit across from one another, silently sipping their drinks. Henry is the first to speak.

 

“We need to talk about my mom.”

 

Killian considers deflecting with a joke, a gentle tease asking which mother Henry meant. It’s something he would have done _before_ , but considering everything that has happened, he thinks better of it. He owes the boy that much.

 

“What of Emma are we discussing?”

 

There are so many things they could be discussing. _Before_ he and the boy were becoming quite adept at discussing Emma. Nothing that would have upset her, he thinks, but small conversations. It was, after all, with Henry that Killian had first devised Operation: Light Swan, and found the home they are sitting in today. That particular fact continues to be a sore point for Charming, who seemingly feels a little put out by being left out. Killian knows, however, that Henry is and forever will be the key to Emma’s heart. Nothing will change that. No apologies, Charming.

 

“My mom loves you. Like really loves you.” Henry says this like it is the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe it is. Killian no longer has any questions about the depth of Swan’s love for him. She’s proven that time and time again. But still, hearing her son say that aloud creates a blossom of warmth in his chest.

 

“Rest assured, lad, the feeling is mutual.”

 

Another obvious thing to say, but Killian feels he must say it. Judging by the expression Henry is shooting his way, the one Emma calls the “duh” face, the boy recognizes the obviousness of that statement, as well. Oh well. Killian will never not declare his love of Emma Swan.

 

“Anyway, you and my mom are True Loves,” Henry begins, taking a sip of coffee in a way that leads Killian to believe is done purely for dramatic effect, “and as her other True Love, it’s our job to watch out for her. She saves everyone, we save her.”

 

“Henry, I don’t think your mother would appreciate would be too keen on anyone watching out for her. I seem to recall her saying the only one that saves her is herself.”

 

That earns an impressive eye-roll from the lad. Killian gets it, because though Emma doesn’t particularly like the idea of anyone going out of their way to take care of her, he still feels to drive and desire to do so. Judging by the way this conversation is turning, Henry feels the same.

 

“I know she doesn’t want anyone to watch out for her, but we still have to. It comes with the whole True Love thing. It’s just that my mom’s been through a whole lot, so she’s scared of getting help. Even when she needs it.”

 

“Aye, I suppose that’s true.”

 

For such a young lad, the boy has quite a bit of insight. Far more than Killian ever did at that age.

 

“And when you died, she needed a lot of help.”

 

There it is. That’s what Killian has been waiting for the moment Henry walked into the kitchen. Everything all circles back to that – his death. First, in that twisted world concocted by the Author. Second in Camelot in that field of flowers. Finally in Storybrooke by Emma’s hand. Each time his love fell slightly more unhinged – how guilty he feels to be the root cause of that trauma – culminating in her marching straight into the Underworld to bring him home.

 

“You can’t do that anymore.”

 

He knows what Henry is requesting without asking. Killian wants so badly to assure the boy that he won’t abandon Emma again – gods above, does he never want to leave her. But he can’t. Not anymore. There was a time when he would proudly boast that he was a survivor.  _Was_. Three centuries of cheating death had finally caught up to him with a vengeance, resulting in three separate deaths – each more painful than the previous – in a matter of weeks. The next one, he knows, will be permanent. Hades won’t let him slip through his fingers again.

 

“Henry, you know I can’t –“

 

Henry cuts him off.

 

“I know you can’t promise anything, okay?” The boy looks down at the table, unable to meet his eyes. It’s obvious that Henry is trying to get a handle on his emotions. For a moment, Killian feels his heart crack. He did this. He’s the reason why Emma’s son, Baelfire’s son, Milah’s grandson feels this way. “It’s just…it’s just that my mom was really upset. I’ve never seen her that upset. And I don’t want to see her that upset again.”

 

“Neither do I.”

 

The sick feeling is once again rising in Killian’s stomach. He takes a long pull from the glass of water to calm his nerves. Henry mirrors his movements with his own mug, possibly hoping for the same result. Killian doubts either of them will get it.

 

Once again, Henry is the first one to speak, his voice impossibly small. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

 

Killian awkwardly reaches out his hand in an attempt to comfort the boy. He knows the fear of loss all to well, but if anyone in the world would never be abandoned or alone, it would be Henry.

 

“Henry, you won’t be doing anything alone. You have your grandparents, Regina…you have –“

 

“But I won’t have you.”

 

That feels like a punch in the gut.

 

Killian feels the pinpricks of tears in his eyes, and makes a concerted effort to tamp them down. Henry is looking for comfort, and Killian will not take that away with his own feelings, even if they feel like they will overflow.

 

“We’re my mom’s True Loves. We’re supposed to do it together.”

 

“And we will. We are.”

 

Henry locks his eyes with Killian’s, seeking some sort of further confirmation. There is a glassiness to the boy’s brown eyes that Killian knows reflects in his own.

 

“I know you can’t promise not to die anymore, but can you at least promise to do your very best not to? For my mom?”

 

Killian hears the unstated “for me?” in Henry’s voice. Killian doesn’t know what he did to deserve this sort of devotion and love. Emma says it is because he is a good man, but he doesn’t quite believe it. He longs to see himself the same way Emma and Henry do, but Killian doubts he ever will.

 

That doesn’t mean he won’t try, though.

 

“Aye, lad, that I can promise.”

 

Henry stands up suddenly, shaking a table a bit. Killian follows suit out of concern and confusion, unsure of what prompted the boy’s sudden movements. It takes Killian a few seconds to understand why, and that is even after Henry wraps his arms around him.

 

A hug.

 

Henry is giving him a hug.

 

That’s something that never happened _before._

 

Suddenly, the _after_ doesn’t feel quite so unnavigable.

 

Maybe he will be able to get through this after all.


End file.
